


Unforgettable

by yourfavalien



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Inspired by Music, M/M, Smooth Jazz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-03-14 18:50:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18953683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourfavalien/pseuds/yourfavalien
Summary: Apparently, not all clubs are disgusting. Some are disgustingly respectable.





	1. Fever

The outside of the club looked dark and grimy and exactly like the kind of place Tony  _ didn't _ want to be, which was why he had no idea why his legs were propelling him forwards.

There wasn't a line to enter, but there was a ferocious looking bouncer guarding the door like Smaug atop a heap of treasure. He narrowed his eyes at Tony, looking him up and down before barking out, "ID?"

Tony rolled his eyes, huffing a sigh. "Really?" he asked. The bouncer just glared even more. "Fine, fine." He pulled out his wallet, procuring a thin slip of plastic. "I mean. Honestly. Like my name isn't on one of the tallest buildings in the city."

The bouncer took the card, glancing down at it. "Stark," he said. He seemed to consider this for a minute before handing Tony's ID back to him with a shake of his head. "Never heard of you."

Tony rolled his eyes. "That's a first," he muttered.

The bouncer just grunted and reached behind him to unclip a red velvet rope. "Don't cause any trouble," he warned.

Tony stepped forward, a hand on the door. "Thought you didn't know me."

"No. But I know your type." The bouncer turned away from him, staring straight ahead at the brick wall of the building across.

"Weird," Tony muttered. He pushed open the door, and-

Oh. This...was not what he'd been expecting.

Rather than the smell of sweat and the heat of a thousand bodies, Tony was met with a jazzy club straight from the forties. The floors were polished wood, with patrons sitting at small tables chattering with drinks in hand. A bartender stood in front of a well-stocked wall, polishing a glass with a white rag. A dainty chandelier hung from the ceiling, encapsulating the room in a soft, warm glow. Atop the stage, a handful of instruments sat, waiting for the owners to pick them up. Soft jazz played from hidden speakers, but Tony had a feeling the instruments wouldn't be left abandoned for long.

He made his way over to the bar, glad he hadn't bothered to change out of his suit after the day's meetings. The other customers wore slacks or well-tailored dresses, their hair neatly coiffed. Tony got the feeling that this wasn't a place you usually stumbled into, as he had.

The bartender looked up when Tony arrived, greeting him with a small smile. "What can I get you?" he asked, setting down his rag and glass. 

"Your oldest single malt," Tony replied, sliding on to one of the red barstools, directly in front of him.

The bartender squinted at him for a second before deciding, "Trust me. You don't want our oldest. Maybe fourth oldest, or third, if you're feeling daring."

Tony rolled his eyes, huffing a breath. "Don't worry, I can afford it," he said, restrained the urge to flash one of his black cards. Honestly. These people were all so judgy.

"I'm sure you can," shrugged the bartender. "But if you're looking to enjoy your night, stick with the younger malts. And by young, I mean twenty-five years or less."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Fine, then. Show me your best malt under twenty-five. Keep her legal though, would you?"

The bartender chuckled, turning away. He pulled down a bottle of caramel liquid from the shelf, setting it down next to neatly arranged glassware. "What do I call you?" asked Tony, leaning on the bar. Might as well make conversation with the bartender, since all of the good looking patrons in the room seemed occupied with other equally good looking patrons. Great.

"Bruce," replied the bartender, selecting a whiskey snifter from a stack of glassware. He poured Tony's drink gracefully, filling up what looked like two fingers worth before corking the bottle. "And you are?"

"Tony Stark." He fixed Bruce with a careful look. "But you already knew that."

Bruce shrugged, smiling sheepishly and handing Tony his drink. "We get a lot of big names 'round here. I make it a habit not to ask."

Tony swirled the scotch, taking a sniff. God, if that wasn't the smell of heaven... "That's nice of you."

"You're doing excellent work with the arc reactor, by that way," said Bruce. "Though you could probably up the cycles if you reconfigured the electron flow."

Tony blinked. Did he- "Rebalance the distribution, you mean? Did that on the latest specs. I'm assuming this isn't your day job?" he asked, a bit more than mildly impressed. Okay, a lot more.

"Scientist by day, bartender and musician by night. None of us do this full time," Bruce replied.

"Us?" 

Bruce gestured with a nod to somewhere behind Tony, who turned. There were people on the stage, taking their places beside instruments that they clearly intended to play. Tony took a sip of his scotch, and made a small noise of pleasure. 

"Smooth, huh?" came Bruce.

Tony nodded, eyes following the man currently making his way across the stage. His broad shoulders were barely contained by a suit coat, his blond hair coiffed in an old fashioned style that made Tony's knees weak. He watched to see which instrument he'd claim and was not disappointed when he sat at the beautiful grand that sat in the centre of the stage. "You could say that again." The man at the piano looked towards the audience, jerking his head.

Tony heard Bruce set something down behind him, and a rag slapped the counter. "That's my cue. Coulson'll take care of you from here on out," he said. 

Tony nodded, barely registering what he'd said. The pianist was shuffling through sheet music, and selected one, placing the long piece on his stand. "Sure thing."

"You watching Cap?" said a new voice. Tony jumped and turned away from the man back towards the bar. A man dressed in a black suit with a skinny tie stood in Bruce's place.

"The pianist?" Tony spared a glance back, to see that Bruce had joined the pianist, a long-haired bassist, a trumpeter with red shoes and a drummer wearing sunglasses indoors (classy) on stage. Tony watched him pick up a saxophone before turning back to the man who seemed to be Coulson.

"That's him. Just wait. If you think he's pretty now, you'll be in love the second he touches those keys," replied Coulson, a tiny smile on his face.

"Oh, I'm not-"

"No shame in looking. I don't blame you. Natasha and Steve get a lot of stares. Good looking pair. Of course, so are the others, but those two..." Coulson shook his head. "Something special, I tell you."

Tony made a noise of agreement. "Natasha?" he asked.

Coulson gestured past his head and Tony watched as a woman dressed in a long black dress slinked out onto the stage. She smirked at Cap and took her place at the microphone stand at centre stage. Turning towards the band, she uttered "Ready?", her voice barely audible. 

Cap nodded, saying something to her that Tony couldn't make out. She smiled and turned back to the audience, taking the microphone in her hand. "Good evening, everyone," she purred. Someone in the audience gave a small whoop. "Glad to see you here. We're going to start off with a classic. Hope you enjoy." She nodded to Bruce, who bent down to switch his saxophone for a violin. He placed the bow to the strings and began to play.

The room filled with the high notes of Bruce's violin and Tony sank a little into his chair, enraptured. Natasha swayed to the music until finally she opened her mouth and sang.

_ "At last my love has come along! My lonely days are over and life is like a song! Oh yeah...at last, the skies above are blue! My heart was wrapped up in clover...the night I looked at you! I found a dream that I could speak to. A dream that I can call my own. I found a thrill to press my cheek to, a thrill that I have never know. Oh yeah, you smiled, you smiled, oh and then the spell was cast! And here we are, in Heaven, for you are mine at last!"  _

Tony clapped enthusiastically with the rest of the room when she finished. "Thank you, thank you," she said, voice like melted butter. Without pause, she launched into her next song. 

"That's Sam," supplied Coulson, pointing towards the trumpeter that had begun to play a cheerful, brassy tune. Natasha sang along, waxing about dreaming. "Clint's the drummer, you know Bruce and Natasha, Thor's the bassist and Steve, or Cap as we like to call him, is the pianist." Tony watched as Steve pressed his hands to the ivory keys, playing along to Natasha and Sam. They played in perfect sync with each other, sound melding together like spun gold. 

The song ended and was to met to more applause, like last time. The band launched into a slower song this time, Sam belting out a familiar trumpet intro.

As he listened, Tony felt transported back to when his mother had taught him to dance. Howard had been away on a business trip, and his mother had come home from work in a particularly good mood one day. She'd grabbed him by his tiny hands, and rushed over to place Tony’s record on the vinyl player. Music had filled the room as she pressed him close to her, one hand in hers and the other placed on her hip. He'd nuzzled into her neck, he remembered, breathing in her perfume like it was drug he couldn't get enough of. She'd sung along to the melody, doing her best to remember all the words. She'd laughed when Tony had twirled her, and the sound rang in his ears as he came back to the present.

"That's one of Cap's favourites," said Coulson as Sam played the final notes to  _ It's Been a Long, Long Time _ . 

"Yeah," Tony rasped. He cleared his throat, clapping mutely. "One of mine too."

He watched as Steve rose from his bench, trading places with Natasha. She slid onto the cushioned bench effortlessly, watching as Steve adjusted the height of the microphone. Clint played a quick one-two on the cymbal and then Sam launched into an even more familiar tune. Tony couldn't help but laugh at their choice of song. Steve's eyes met his, and he smiled as a blush crept across Tony's cheeks.

Steve had a remarkable voice, Tony noted, as he listened to him sing the opening lines of the Frank Sinatra classic. His deep baritone made a shiver run down Tony's spine. Tony gave a small wave to Coulson, unable to look away from the stage. "Another scotch," he said, not breaking eye contact with Steve as he sang about making it in New York.

Coulson slid the glass next to Tony's elbow and he downed it with ease. Steve finished, to thunderous applause. He coloured, thanking the crowd. God, he was precious. "So. Coulson," Tony said, as Steve switched back to the piano. "How do you spend your free hours?"

Coulson cocked an eyebrow. "Is this you trying to make small talk with me so that I'll tell you more about Steve?"

"No. Maybe. Yes," Tony caved. "Is it working?"

"Not in the slightest."

Tony sighed, slumping on the bar. "You're heartless," he muttered into his suit jacket.

Coulson smiled menacingly. "Thank you."

Tony gave up trying to talk to Coulson and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his emails. Boring, boring, boring, Dinner, Gala, Deadlines, Interviews...wait. Gala? Tony frowned and scrolled back a couple hundred emails, thumb settling on one labelled "URGENT: Annual Stark Charity Gala" from Pepper. He clicked on it, scanning the contents. A grin spread across his face. He clicked through to Pepper's contact and called her, nestling the phone to his ear as he watched the stage. 

"Tony? What's wrong?" asked Pepper, when she picked up after a few rings.

"Nothing's wrong. Why would you assume something's wrong?" Tony balked, tracing patterns into the marble counter of the bar.

"You only call me when something's wrong. Or when you want something. So? Which is it?"

Tony sighed dramatically, flopping a hand on his head. "Can't I just call you to have a nice chat with my favourite PA?"

She snorted. "No."

"Okay, fine. But nothing's wrong and I don't want anything. Well, not really. It's just a suggestion. I just had a suggestion."

"For?"

"The Stark Gala thing."

"You read the email?" Pepper sounded impressed. It was mildly insulting. Tony read his emails. He just didn't often reply or do anything they told him to.

"Of course I read the email, and listen, I was thinking, what if we go for a 40's theme this year? I've found the most perfect band for it, you'll have to come down and watch them. They're incredible, Pep, you'll love it. Matter a fact, why don't you head down now? I'll send Happy, I'm sure he's in the area-"

"It's nearly 11, Tony. I was about to go to bed when you called."

Tony huffed. "Since when do you got to bed at 11?"

"Since always. I need it to compensate for all of your pleasant 3 am wake-up calls," she sassed.

"Right, right. Sorry. Anyway, what do you think? The gala thing's in what, a month? We can make that happen, right?"

Pepper was silent for a moment. "I suppose. Though I'm pretty sure we already booked a band."

"Then cancel it," Tony said simply. "If they're mad, we'll just pay them or something. I'm loaded," he supplied helpfully.

"I know, Tony."

"So that's a yes?"

"It's a maybe. Depends on how good these guys are."

Tony watched as Clint finished what could only be described as an epic drum solo. "Oh, trust me. They're good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs featured in this chapter (in order of appearance):  
> At Last by Etta James  
> Dream a Little Dream of Me by Doris Day  
> It's Been a Long, Long Time by Harry James (you may recognize this one from Winter Soldier and Endgame-sniff)  
> Theme from New York, New York by Frank Sinatra
> 
> (Note: I know that these aren't necessarily the original composers of these songs, but they're the covers I listened to for inspiration when creating this chapter. I strongly suggest you give them a listen! I've got a playlist on Spotify with a couple of my favourite jazz songs that I'll leave below in case anyone's interested.)
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3Hsn1kWcFUWN4ChQwCUsR7


	2. Prelude to a Kiss

"Are you...nervous?"

Tony dropped his tie, turning to Pepper. She was staring at him, a mix of astonishment and confusion painted across her face. "What? No. Don't be ridiculous," he huffed.

She grinned like a shark. Paired with her immaculate hair and elegant dress, it was slightly unsettling. "You're nervous!" Her grin melted into a softer smile, and she reached forward to fix his tie, smoothing down the front of his suit with the palm of her hand. "That's good, Tony. It means you care."

"Care?" Tony laughed, but it sounded forced. "Of course I care. I care about lots of things. You. Rhodey. Stark Industries. Charity, notably. I'm a philanthropist, Pepper, I have to care."

She raised an eyebrow. "Uh huh. I'm sure." Pepper glanced once more in the mirror, tucking some invisible strand of hair behind her ear. "Come on, we don't want to be late."

Tony hesitated, glancing around the penthouse. "Just..." His eyes landed on something, and he pocketed it quickly. "Alright. Fine. Let's go."

She looked at him with scrutiny before abandoning the task with a sigh. They headed towards the elevator together, descending to the fourth floor, where the 7th Annual Stark Charity Gala was in full swing in the ballroom of Stark Tower. The decorators had done an excellent job, and Tony marvelled at how they'd transformed the modern space into an old fashioned vision straight out of the forties. It looked vaguely inspired by USO parties, with a couple of red, white and blue banners draped across chandeliers. Tony watched as guests helped themselves to American delicacies served by vested waiters and posed in front of a backdrop in their period-appropriate clothes.

Tony's eyes were drawn to the stage, where familiar musicians were playing soft jazz, seemingly warming up for later in the night. Natasha was nowhere in sight, but Steve led the band in a lovely, slower piece. Tony found himself smiling up at him, though Steve was focused on the music and didn't return his gaze.

"I thought that was why you'd chosen them," smirked Pepper. Tony broke away to look at her. He rolled his eyes but didn't deny it. "Come on, it's time to charm some money out of people."

"'Course. It's why they pay me the big bucks." Tony made a show out of cracking his neck and knuckles (much to Pepper's chagrin at the noise) before nodding and beaming a smile at a familiar crowd. "Marcus! It's so good to see you!" he called, slipping into the persona of Tony Stark, charming, playboy billionaire easily as he flirted playfully with the guests. For a good cause, of course.

An hour later, Pepper found Tony's eye. He was on his third glass of champagne and feeling a bit worse for wear. He'd been trying and failing to catch Steve's eye all night, and was quickly growing frustrated at the game of Cat and Mouse they seemed to be playing. Pepper, much to Tony's delight, seemed to realize this, and she waltzed over to grab his arm. "So sorry, but I need to borrow Tony for a minute," she apologized to the people Tony had been in the middle of not-listening to. He gave them his best 'What can you do' face, but heaved a sigh of relief once they were far enough.

"Thank God, Pepper. I think I've filled my schmoozing quota for the month. You should have seen me with the mayor. It was like taking candy from a baby. I'm honestly sorry for the city's budget; I'm pretty sure I got him to pledge 75% of it to one of our foundations-" Tony babbled as Pepper dragged him across the floor. She stopped suddenly, and he tumbled before catching himself.

"Tony Stark, meet Margaret Carter. Peggy, this is the man I was telling you about," said Pepper, gesturing towards a beautiful woman that looked like she could crush Tony under her thumb. He dug it.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark," she said, voice coated in a posh British accent. She stuck out a hand, her red-lipsticked mouth curving into a smile.

"Likewise," he replied, shaking her hand. Her curls bounced a little, and Tony was reminded of how his mother had sometimes styled her hair. "Please, call me Tony."

There was that smile again. "I'll leave you two to talk," said Pepper, gliding away to talk to some other fat cat.

"So what do you do exactly?" asked Tony. "I haven't seen you around this kind of scene before."

"No," she replied, plucking a champagne flute from a passing waiter. Tony passed when one was offered to him. "I'm a British ambassador for the UN."

Tony nodded. "Not that I'm not overjoyed by your presence, but why are you here, then? Diplomats aren't usually on the guest list. Too respectable."

Peggy laughed. "Well, the UN's just my day job. But Steve's an old friend of mine, so I help him manage the band in my spare time. You know, financials and the like," she said, taking a sip of her champagne.

Tony blinked. Steve...like Cap Steve? "The band?" he asked stupidly.

"Sure. The Avengers. Steve and I played together when we in the service, but when I discharged and Bucky..." she faltered for a second, staring into her glass. But then her smile was back, bright as ever. "Anyway. I helped him get back on his feet and he met the rest of them through various mediums. It makes him happy, I think. So I help keep the band afloat. Least I can do, after everything."

Tony didn't pry. It wasn't his place (see, Pepper? Not always an asshole). "You know the rest of them too, then? Or just Steve?"

"Natasha and I are good friends, and I've met the rest of them a couple of times. Can't say I know them too well, but enough to get by. What about you? How do you know the Avengers?" she shot back.

"I don't. I mean, I talked to Bruce once when he was serving me drinks, but I've just seen them play, never actually...you know. Talked to them."

Peggy blinked at him. She smiled, incredulous. "Really?" she drawled, her accent thick. "Well, that won't do. I'll get them to stay after the evening's over and you can have a chat then."

"You would..." Tony trailed off. "Would they want to? I mean, I'm sure they're just here for a paycheck. They don't have to."

"Nonsense. Steve doesn't accept requests unless he knows it's a good cause. He must've seen something in you or your charity if he's here tonight," she replied, nonchalant as she leaned against one of the raised tables. The song currently playing ended and Tony and Peggy watched as Steve and Natasha switched places. Natasha plucked a few notes and Peggy lit up. "Oh! I love this song. Come dance with me, Tony."

She set down her drink and grabbed Tony's hand, pulling him towards the stage and onto the dance floor. The intro was soft and pretty, with an almost inaudible bass line that Tony could feel in his feet as he swayed with Peggy.

" _Unforgettable_ ," sang Steve, his lovely voice filling Tony's ears, " _that's what you are. Unforgettable, tho' near or far_."

Tony looked up from Peggy and found Steve watching him, an indecipherable expression on his face.

" _Unforgettable, in every way. And forever more that's how you'll stay_."

Tony twirled Peggy, a knowing smile shining on his face. Pepper cut in as Steve's voice faded, replaced by an instrumental led by Natasha and Bruce.

"Hi," she said. "Having fun?"

"I get to meet the band," replied Tony, a stupid grin on his face.

"So I heard," replied Pepper. "If you ask me, the singer's got the hots for you."

"Who, Natasha?" asked Tony, cheekily.

Pepper just swatted at his arm. They silenced as Steve's voice filled the room once more.

" _Unforgettable, in every way. And forever more that's how you'll stay_."

Tony looked up and found Steve staring at him once more. The whole room faded, leaving just the two of them, lit by the soft glow of a spotlight.

" _That's why, darling, it's incredible that someone so unforgettable thinks that I am unforgettable, too._ " Tony felt like Steve was singing just to him, and he basked in the feeling. It felt like standing outside on a warm summer's day, the sun's rays on your face.

The song ended, and Pepper patted Tony on the shoulder, dragging his eyes away from the stage. "You know," she said softly. "The night's nearly over."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And I'm pretty sure that's the end of the band's set."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Go get him, tiger." Pepper smiled fondly, turning on her heal and walking towards where Peggy was standing, her red lips smirking.

Tony nodded and looked up at the stage once more. Sure enough, Steve was nowhere to be found and the others were packing up their instruments. Bruce caught his eye and jerked his head in the direction of the exit. Tony took the hint and walked in the direction of the large ballroom doors, trying his best not to look like he was making a quick escape. He had about reached the door when a familiar asshole blocked his path.

"Tony! It's been so long!" exclaimed Justin Hammer, hand poised to shake. Tony made a noise in the back of his throat. Great.

"Hammer. Yes, ages. Listen, I've really got to be going, emergency in the lab, you know how it is-"

"Oh, don't be silly. It can wait. They always wait for me!" Hammer laughed, amused at his own joke. The woman on his arm chuckled politely, though she looked like she wasn't to be there just as much as Tony did.

"They bother calling you?" Tony muttered.

"What?" asked Hammer.

"Nothing, nothing."

"Right, well, I wanted you to meet my girlfriend, Jessica. Jessica, this is Tony Stark," he introduced, waving between Tony and the pretty blonde woman. Tony narrowed his eyes. She looked familiar.

"Jessica? Sports Illustrated 2007 Jessica?" he asked, a smile blooming on his face.

 _‘Oh. Oh! Oh, you are one stupid, stupid man introducing the lovely Jessica Simone to me. You really thought you could one-up me by bringing a beautiful woman to one of my parties? Nice try, Hammer. Call me when you invent something useful and figure out they're in it for the food, not for you,’_ Tony thought.

"Yes," she said, smiling softly. "Justin...Tony and I actually know each other."

Tony grinned. "We're actually very well acquainted. Where was it, Berlin?"

"Prague, actually. Some awards ceremony," she supplied.

Hammer blanched, realization creeping across his face. He tried to play it off, chuckling awkwardly. "Well, that's great! That's so great, Tony. Hey, I wanted to ask you a question about your work on the reactor core-" he started, but Tony was done with Hammer. There was a taller, prettier blonde in need of his attention. Sorry, Jessica.

"Any questions you have can be addressed to my PA. I'll be sure to get back to you within 3 to 5 business days," he said, waving vaguely in the direction of where Pepper had been standing. He turned, racing out the door before anyone could ask him any more questions. "Donate lots to charity!" he called after him.

"Son of a bitch," he heard Hammer mutter, but he didn't care. Call him childish, but he had bigger fish to fry.

Tony stepped into the Stark Tower lobby, searching the vast room for Steve. He tried calling his name but wasn't met with a reply. He swore, steeling himself to face the night's chill in favour of searching outside.

"Steve? Uh, Cap? You there?" he called, searching the sidewalk for a familiar blonde figure.

"Mr. Stark?" replied a familiar baritone.

Tony broke out into a grin and turned, delighted to find Steve staring down at him. Woah. Well hello, tall broad and handsome.

Steve blushed and Tony realized he'd said that aloud. Shit. He stuttered out an apology, but Steve just smiled sheepishly.

"It's alright," he said, scratching the back of his head. "For the record, I, uh, think you're mighty swell too."

Tony's grinch heart grew approximately two sizes at the compliment and warmth spread to his toes. "Come inside," he stammered. "To the lobby, I mean. Not to my penthouse, though we could if you wanted-"

Steve smiled and walked wordlessly inside, Tony trailing after him like a lost puppy. He might've been drooling slightly, but really, who could blame him?

"So, Peggy tells me you're a, uh, fan?" said Steve, only they'd made it into the heat. Tony nodded, smiling.

"I heard you guys play once, at that bar."

"Right. Shield," Steve supplied. Truth be told, Tony had no idea what the club's name was. He'd just given Pepper vague directions and hoped she found the right one. He remembered telling her that if she found a freaky tall guy with a metal arm, she was in the right place. "I remember that night."

Tony blinked. "You...do?"

Steve blushed, and Tony instinctively began to think of ways he could keep that blush on his face forever. "Sure. You were at the bar, talking to Bruce and then when we started to play you got this expression on your face...I don't think I've ever seen anyone enjoy the music as much as you. Most of them just nod their heads and clap politely, but you...I don't know. It's silly, but it was really nice to know that someone likes it as much as we do," he said, looking down at his hands.

"You guys are really amazing," blurted Tony. "It's not hard to get lost in your music."

"That's really nice of you to say," replied Steve, looking up at Tony through his eyelashes. God, Tony's teeth felt like they were going to rot from how sweet this man was.

"No, but seriously. You should do it full time. I'm sure you could get a record deal no problem, and then with the right marketing-"

"It's, uh. Well, the band's more of a hobby than a job," cut off Steve. He was back to not meeting Tony's eyes, fiddling with the fabric of the sleek armchair.

"Really? So what do you do in the daytime that you can't bear to leave?" prodded Tony.

"I...well. I was in the forces, but then Bucky, that's our bouncer, and I, we...Anyway, I teach now. Art," he said, not looking all too pleased.

"I'll bet that pays well," Tony snorted. Steve shot him a look, an annoyed one, granted, but hey, eye contact! Progress! "Sorry. I don't mean to offend you. I'm kind of like this with everyone, so don't take it personally."

"Good to know," muttered Steve and Tony barked out a laugh.

"There we go!" he exclaimed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Hey, you want to get out of here? I know a great bar down the road from here, away from prying eyes."

Steve looked back at the door to the ballroom, apprehension spelled across his features. "Shouldn't you stay? You're the host and everything."

Tony waved him off. "Don't worry, mother's dismissed me. I'm free to go wherever I please, and the bar's calling my name," he suggested, an eyebrow raised in Steve's direction. "I think I can hear it." He cupped his hands to his mouth and echoed quietly, "Tony! Tony!"

Colour seeped into Steve's cheeks as he chuckled and Tony felt a brief moment of pride. It was shortly eclipsed by joy when Steve nodded his head, rising. Steve offered his hand to Tony, who clasped onto it gratefully. "What a gentleman," he cooed. Steve's blush deepened. "Come, I'll show you the way."

The sun had yet to set, the streets paved in a golden light. Tony slipped on his sunglasses despite this, loosening his tie. They walked side by side, silent until they reached a small, discreet joint. Steve nearly walked past it, stopping only when Tony tugged on his suit jacket. It was a cheap material, and Tony thought about how he ought to buy him some nicer clothes if they were going to be seen together. As investor and client, of course. Unless Steve wanted-

Tony chased the thoughts from his head as he pushed open the door. Steve had to agree to all of this first. He couldn't just spring tales of nice suits and suites on him without causing Steve to run for the hills. Steve was like a stray dog; adorable but likely to spook at any moment.

"So," said Tony, after they'd both ordered drinks and had chosen seats at one of the quieter tables in the back, "where do you teach?"

Steve traced patterns on the filthy table, not meeting Tony's eyes. "At a high school down in Midtown," he replied simply.

"What kind of arts?" ‘ _Come on Steve, give me something to work with. It's like talking to a brick wall.’_

"Fine arts. You know, painting, sculpture, drawing..." he trailed off with a sigh. "It's nice, I suppose. Just not where I thought my life was headed."

"Did you plan on staying in the military for your entire career?" Tony asked. Steve's expression fell slightly, and Tony winced internally at his misstep.

"I dunno." Steve looked up from his entwined fingers. They were long and graceful. A pianist's fingers. "Maybe. I enlisted when I turned 18 but was discharged for injury a couple of years back. I would have stayed if I could've. Maybe not forever, but. I would have stayed," he finished.

Tony nodded. A waitress slid their drinks in front of them, smiling as Steve thanked her. Tony sipped his scotch, pondering Steve. Had he read the signals wrong? "You don't seem to be having a very good time," he suggested.

Steve blinked, eyes snapping from his water up to Tony. "No! No, it's not that. I'm sorry, talking about the war just makes me..." He took a deep breath, exhaling sharply. "Tell me about yourself. I want to hear about you," he said, almost forcefully.

Tony hesitated, but Steve was looking at him with wide puppy eyes that no one could have resisted. "Well, I run Stark Industries. The uh, weapons manufacturing company. I develop products for them and then get dragged to all of the terrible board meetings. If I could, I'd hand it all over to my frightfully capable assistant, Pepper, but she seems to think that she's 'not ready' and the board thinks it'll cause a 'drop in stocks'," he huffed. "So I go to the stupid meetings and sign all the paperwork when I'd really rather be down in the lab making things explode."

Steve was smiling now, his chin propped up on his hand. "Seems like we're both stuck doing things we don't truly enjoy."

Tony took a deep breath, looking Steve in the eyes. "You know...about that. I was thinking maybe one of us wouldn't have to be."

"Oh yeah? You going to ignore the board and give the company to Pepper anyway?" Steve replied.

"No, no. Well, maybe. But not today. Okay. Here's the thing. I think you and your band have something special. A certain _je ne sais quoi_ , if you will. And being the kind, generous billionaire that I am, I'd like to sponsor you to put out a few records. You could quit your job if you want, spend all day in the studio and then if the albums sell you could go on tour..." he babbled. "You wouldn't have to be stuck anymore."

Steve squinted at him. "No."

Tony stopped in place, mouth falling open. "What?"

"No," Steve repeated. "Listen, I thought this was just a friendly thing, but if you're going to go around throwing money at me to buy my-I don't even know! Do you do this often? Offer to pay for a man's life in exchange...in exchange for-"

"Don't hurt yourself," Tony replied, which was definitely the wrong move, judging from the way Steve's face lit up red (and not in a good way).

Steve stood up from the booth. "Listen. We're perfectly happy as we are. The band is a hobby for us, something to do in the evenings so we can forget all the crappy cards life dealt us. We're people, Mr. Stark, not some charity case," he spat, throwing a crisp bill on the table before stalking away.

"Steve! That's not what I meant and you know it. Would you stop being so damn stubborn for two minutes and let me explain?" Tony said, starting after Steve, who stopped in his tracks to turn and glare at Tony. He gestured for him to speak, folding his arms on top of each other.

Tony took a deep breath, looking away from Steve to make steady eye contact with the tiled floor. "When I was a kid, my father wasn't exactly, ah...around much. It sucked, not having someone to brag to when I won awards or to go to when I got my heart broken. My mother was there, and she did her best, but I was always set on getting his approval. He was a genius, dear old dad, so I thought that maybe if I got to be as smart as him, he'd at least treat me as one of his peers instead of the dog that'd gotten underfoot. So I worked my ass off and made invention after invention, but Howard never so much as glanced my way unless it was to look at the work I was doing, which I thought meant he finally proud of me. I was elated, hanging on to his every word whenever he bothered to speak to me rather than conveying messages through assistants, employees or my own mother. Though he was in the workshop a lot, Howard spent more time in foreign countries than he did at home."

Tony shuffled his feet. He couldn't bring himself to look up at Steve's face, which was probably wrought with pity. Wasn't that what he wanted, though? For his sob story to convince Steve to let him sponsor the band out of pity?

"A few days before my twelfth birthday, my mother told me that my father would be home for my birthday."

_Now, Tony, don't get your hopes up. He'll do his best, but you know what the weather is like this time of year._

"God, I was so excited. My mother said I was a tyrant; ordering around the maids and forcing our butler, Jarvis, to polish everything at least thrice. I loved it when my father was home, but not when he was drunk off his ass, as he so often was when he was angry at something. So I did my best, and the day came faster than I would have liked. I sat at the dining table with my mother on the morning of my birthday, our plates untouched as we waited for him. But he never came."

_It's alright, dear. I'm sure he tried, but these things can't always be predicted. Oh, don't cry sweetheart. Come. Let me show you something._

"She took me to the living room, where she pulled out a parcel wrapped in red paper."

_Open it, darling._

"It was a record. _It's Been a Long, Long Time_ by Harry James and Helen Forrest."

_Your father is a busy man, and sometimes he forgets that his most important job is at home, with you. I will never forget, darling. Always know that._

"She taught me how to dance with that record. After she died, I couldn't bear to listen to it, so I shelved it away at the back of some closet. The time you played that song in the bar was the first I'd heard it in over twenty years and it made everything come rushing back. Not just the song itself, but the way your band played it was...it was like magic, and that's coming from someone who thinks magic is a load of horseshit. Not that your music is horseshit. That's not what I meant. I mean that your music is amazing and the closest thing I've ever experienced to magic, which is saying something because I don't even believe in magic.

"Anyway. What I've been trying to say is that jazz gave me the chance to connect with my mother and to move on from my failure of a father. It gave me memories that I still cherish to this day, ones that I haven't been able to replicate by listening to any of today's music. But when I heard you play, it all came rushing back."

Tony looked up at Steve, searching.

"I want other kids to be able to make the kind of memories I did. I want them to hear Natasha's voice and Thor's bass. I want teenagers to imitate Sam's tune and adults to pick up drumsticks after being inspired by Clint. I want people to dance to Bruce's sax and I want them to hear the Avengers play and smile. I want the world to hear you sing, Steve. They deserve the chance to hear you and love you like I loved that vinyl and like I loved you in that bar. So if you won't do this for yourself and the opportunity to be happy, do it for the millions of people I know you'll bring joy to if you just say yes."

Steve didn't look like he was breathing. His expression was unreadable, and Tony's heart sunk. He opened his mouth to backtrack, but Steve put a hand on his bicep, stopping him.

"I'll do it, Tony," he said. "I'll do this for you."

Tony frowned. "What do you mean, for me?"

"If my music makes anyone else feel the way you did, Tony, that's a bonus. But if only one person resonates with, that'll be enough, especially if that person is you. You've already given me as much as I could ever wish for," Steve told him, and Tony'd be lying if his heart didn't melt into a puddle at his feet.

"Wuh," he tried, before clearing his throat. "Wow. That's something, Steve."

"You're something, Tony," assured Steve, removing his hand from Tony's arm and sticking it out in front of him. "Shake on it?"

Tony smiled, clasping Steve's large, warm hand in his. He stared at Steve's face as he did, searching for some sort of sign.

"Just so you know," said Steve softly. "This isn't about the money. Or about me pitying you."

"I know, I know. You already told me it's for-"

"No. _This_ isn't about the money," cut off Steve, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Tony's.

For a second, Tony didn't know what to do. His brain had short-circuited, and it took him a second to reboot before he was fully able to comprehend what was happening. Finally, the reality set in and Tony pressed back into Steve's kiss, the corners of his mouth tipping up.

Steve pulled away first, and Tony made a small noise of sadness. He opened his eyes to find Steve looking at him, a little smile dancing across his pretty face. "So," he said. "Shall we go to your office to finalize the details? Or perhaps that offer about penthouses you made earlier is still available?"

Tony grinned, and Steve matched it, eyes aglow. "Hup to, soldier," Tony replied, taking Steve's hand in his and tugging him towards the door. "Let's go make some music."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are the songs featured in the story (in order of appearance):  
> Prelude to a Kiss by Oscar Peterson, Duke Ellington, Ray Brown and Ed Thigpen  
> Unforgettable by Nat King Cole
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed and be sure to shoot me a comment if you've got anything you'd like to say :)


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